


Before a Word Has Been Spoken

by deliciousshame



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7681468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousshame/pseuds/deliciousshame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's a NBA player. He's rich, he's famous, he's hot. He can totally ask out the really cute stranger sitting at the back of the restaurant.</p><p>He totally can.</p><p>(He can't.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before a Word Has Been Spoken

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fic for minatu on tumblr: _Popular and rich NBA player Aomine pining over a nobody Kuroko? :D would love a happy end, but don’t rly mind hurt/comfort._

Look, Daiki isn’t one to brag (“LIES” scream the Satsuki and Kagami residing in his head), but when he goes out during the day, he expects to sign a t-shirt or two, field a few questions from kids and maybe dodge a paparazzo. It’s a part of the job he’s used to by now. 

There’s this small diner he likes to go to when he wants to eat some food the team’s nutritionist wouldn’t approve of in peace. The people here used to freak out a little when he showed up, but now they mostly leave him alone, or greet him like an old friend. Also, the food is really great. 

There’s just this guy. This tiny, pale, cute Japanese guy that sits at the back and never reacts when he shows up, just continue working on the pile of papers resting on the table beside his cup of coffee, or, if he’s feeling bold, a milkshake. 

Daiki knows that not everyone is into basket (some people have terrible taste) so he might not recognize him, but the guy could at least introduce himself instead of hiding in the shadows and making Daiki look like a creep for staring. The guy is just cute, okay? And he looks lonely, sitting by himself back there, always working. He looks like he could use some excitement in his life. 

Daiki is great at providing excitement.

Plus, Daiki would love to have someone to talk to in Japanese more often. He knows that just because the guy has Japanese ancestry doesn’t mean he speaks it, but the odds are higher, right? He can speak English just fine now, fuck the people that don’t agree, but Japanese still comes easier to him. 

So, Daiki has great reasons for going to talk to the guy, right? He just has to do it, no big deal. Just walk over there, introduce himself, use his natural charm to get his phone number. He’s sure he could at least make a friend out of the guy. Teach him about basket, maybe. Find out if he’s single/interested in men, definitively. At least take him away from all that paperwork for a few hours. All he has to do is get himself over there.

Daiki sighs, pays his bill and leaves. Next time will be the one.

__________________

There’s a dog sleeping in Cute Guy’s lap. A cute black and white dog, not enormous but not small, its head resting on his thigh while his body invades the bench. The guy pets him absentmindedly while working, and sometimes the dog moves in his sleep and the guy looks down and smiles and there is no way that’s fair, Daiki wants to be that dog and rest his head on his lap and be the recipient of that slight, devastating smile. 

Of course the guy likes animals. Daiki bets he gets drawings from small children and helps old ladies cross the street when he’s not charming waitresses into letting him enter restaurants with dogs. 

Daiki might have let out a sound, because the busboy turns and says “Yeah, I feel you. That should be illegal, man, seriously.” 

Who the hell is this guy? Is he planning on making a move, because Daiki’s got him beat in everything: riches, fame, hotness. He has no chance. 

“Yeah, no, I don’t have a death wish.”

Daiki must work on being less obvious. The last thing he needs is an article about how his love life isn’t restricted to the female gender. He’s sure Cute Guy isn’t the type to gossip, but who knows about that busboy?

On the positive side, he’s apparently a master of the death glare. He just has to make sure not to use it on Cute Guy without meaning to. That’s the last thing he’d need: the guy thinking he hates him. 

Or, you know, he could go and tell him himself that he doesn’t hate him. That would be a strange conversation starter, but at least they’d be talking. Cute Guy doesn’t look like the type that would be mean with his rejection. Daiki probably wouldn’t crash and burn too badly. 

Still, he wants to be able to come at the diner again without fear. That involves not wanting to evade a regular for the rest of his life. He should really prepare a better plan of attack.

__________________

He only realises the gravity of the situation when the really hot chick that his teammate has been flirting with for like half an hour decides to ditch him and pretty much comes to sit on his lap, and his only thought is “Yeah, no thanks, I’ve got someone else.” Which is stupid, because he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know Cute Guy’s name! He’s just some guy that goes to the same cheap restaurant as him! Sure, he’s cute and he looks nice and the waitresses like him because they say he’s very polite, but that doesn’t mean anything! It really shouldn’t stop him from bedding that very willing lady, especially when it would piss off his teammate at the same time. 

And yet, he’s not interested.

He has a problem. 

__________________

Daiki isn’t sulking, but he needs greasy comfort food now or he’ll rip someone’s face off. That game should have been in the bag, but no, his teammates sucked too much and now he lost to Kagami. 

He’s been keeping away from the diner until he is ready to make his move on Really Cute Guy That He Can’t Stop Thinking About, but today is an exception. Between facing his crush and getting arrested for murdering the passerby that bumped into him, Daiki will take his chance. Maybe he won’t even be there today, who knows.

He barely manages not to bark his order at the young, impressionable waitress and sits to simmer in his resentment. Everyone leaves him alone, even the young girl who usually really likes retelling him his own plays. Normally he finds that cute, but today he might have gotten thrown out of the restaurant for screaming profanities at a seven-year-old. 

He attacks his delicious, delicious hamburger with the violence of a starving wolf, too focused on replaying the game in his head and cursing his every move to notice much of anything, until: “Excuse me, but are you all right?”

He turns and spats the words before he can think. “Do I look fucking all right to you?”

His hateful glare meets wide, pale blue eyes that he has imagined staring into his too often not to recognise. His self-hatred rises to unprecedented levels, only to be matched by his mortification. He freezes. This is really, really not his day. Fuck this day in every way possible. “Urgh, look, sorry I snapped, today is- It’s a really shitty day, okay?” 

The guy stays impassive as he says: “I can see that”. Daiki wants to melt into the bench. 

“Here” says the guy as he trusts a milkshake in his general direction. “It always helps me feel better.”

A childhood in Japan has him think “indirect kiss!?!”, which is ridiculous. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t get butterflies in his stomach from touching the place his crush has touched, damn it! 

He’s not really a milkshake kind of guy, but even today he’s not dumb enough to refuse. “Thanks… I don’t know your name. I’m Aomine Daiki.” 

There’s not a flicker of recognition in the soon not to be stranger’s eyes. He really must not like basketball. A pity. “Kuroko Tetsuya. I’m pleased to meet you.”

 _Not as much as me_ is what he thinks but thankfully doesn’t say. It’s also at this point that he realises that the whole conversation was in Japanese, which, score! He knew it! 

He wonders if he can get away with calling him by his first name, since this is America. Tetsuya? Seems weirdly formal. He’s too used to sports nicknames for that. “So, Tetsu, is it normal for you to just go and comfort random patrons?” 

Daiki hates himself. So much. How about not being rude to the object of your affections during your first talk?

If Tetsu is bothered, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t let much show. This will be hard. “I teach first grade, so yes, it’s second nature at this point.”

Oh god, he really must have drawings from children on his fridge. “So I’m a kid throwing a tantrum?”

Tetsu is completely deadpan when he answers: “Pretty much.”

He could get offended, but why would he? He starts laughing instead. “Fair enough.”

Tetsu, well, he doesn’t smile exactly, but some tension he hadn’t noticed leaves his face and the sides of his lips curl a little. Daiki’s heart starts beating hard in his chest. He’s so, so gone. 

Strangely, the conversation flows easier after this. Daiki manages to skirt around his current occupation, because it soon becomes evident that Tetsu isn’t the type to be impressed by his fame or the fact that he could buy out the restaurant with his spare change. It’s not hard, because Tetsu doesn’t pry. 

Daiki does wrangle out of Tetsu that he’s single, always grading tests or preparing lessons, that he loves his job and wouldn’t change it for the world, that he has a dog (Daiki knew but acts like he didn’t. Tetsu really doesn’t need to know how much of a creepy stalker he is just now.) and is not much of a cook, hence the constant visits to restaurants. “I could cook for you, if you wanted.” Daiki can cook, thank you very much. He lives by himself, he can get by! He had to, since for a long time, it was that or food prepared by Satsuki. He much preferred bringing his own food. 

Tetsu raises an eyebrow at him. Daiki wishes he could do that. Then he realises he pretty much invited Tetsu, whom he just met, to come eat at his place. He just invited a total stranger on a date, _at his place_. It just slipped out! Tetsu doesn’t feel like a stranger! He’s like… a friend he just met! 

Before he can backtrack, Tetsu says “ _You_ can cook?” and oh, it is so on. 

By the time the waitress hands him his bill, the time for the not-date is set. He takes a look at it and sees that she scribbled “Go get him!” with a thumbs up. He turns around, and sure enough, she’s looking on with a few of her colleagues. He thinks there might be money changing hands. Why does he like that place again? 

Daiki does leave with Tetsu’s phone number, and stays in a cloud of stunned joy until practice next day, when he remembers his poor performance and fool mood. It all seems so far away now. How can he worry about that when he has a proper dinner to plan?

__________________

Daiki doesn’t know anyone that wouldn’t laugh at him if they saw his current state of agitation. His place is as clean as it will ever be. The food is prepared and will be ready any minute now. Tetsu said he had no particular likes or dislikes, but Daiki still made sure there was enough of everything. He tried to ready some music and then found out he had no idea what kind Tetsu liked. He tells himself he’ll stream whatever he wants. There’s wine and beer and even non-alcoholic beverages, no, he’s serious! He’s ready, so he can stop running in circles in his own home.

Tetsu finally arrives, and Daiki rings him in with both excitement and worry. What if he thinks his taste in decor sucks? Well, it’s not his taste, Satsuki hired an interior designer, but whatever, what if he thinks it’s ugly? 

Tetsu arrives and does look around. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised your house is so much more opulent than mine. Our salaries aren’t anything alike.”

Wait, what? “You know who I am?”

Tetsu stares at him. “Who doesn’t?”

Well, yeah, he’s right about that. Daiki is that good. Still. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to look like I was bragging about my awesome job and all my cash!” That’s for impressing a one-night stand, not for potential serious relationships! 

“You’re doing a poor job of that.”

“It’s the truth!” 

Tetsu is laughing at him, the jerk. Even his neutral/smug face is cute. Fuck. “I know. I didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want to appear like another fan either.”

“Wait, are you a fan?”

Even if he still appears neutral, he can’t hide the light blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh god, you are! Look, I’ll put out the food, and you can tell me all about how awesome my basket is over dinner.”

Tetsu looks like he might have other things than compliments about his mad skills to say, but he stills ends up pretty complimentary anyway. Turns out he also plays, even if admitting it seems to pain him. He says he’s really not good at it, and Daiki cares not at all. He could be the worst player on the Earth and he’d still be the best to him. 

Daiki is allowed to be sappy in the confines of his own head, okay? 

Maybe they could play together someday. Next date: decided. 

The evening passes in a flash, and before he knows it Tetsu is gathering his stuff and preparing to leave. First not-date is too soon to ask someone to stay the night, right? Right? Because he really, really wouldn’t mind. 

He’s standing by the doorway when he asks: “Why did you never come talk to me?”

“Oh shit, you noticed.”

“The whole restaurant noticed. My neighbour tried to bribe me into going to talk to you just to stop the puppy eyes. He said they ruined his son’s image of you.”

Fuck his life. It’s decided. He’s never putting a foot there again. Never. “What if you didn’t like me?”

“Famous basketball player, afraid of rejection? Really?”

Damn, now his ego is bruised. “I’m just as scared as anyone else, okay? Being really good at basket does not give me wonderful interpersonal skills. Please don’t tell anyone I said that.” He would die. Of shame.

Tetsu smiles, the same kind of small, kind smile he gave his dog. Daiki did not need to melt at the moment. “I promise I won’t if you do something for me.”

Daiki is naturally wary of wily individuals trying to worm promises out of him. “What is it?”

Tetsuya looks up at him with those wide, innocent eyes and says “Kiss me?”

Fuck. Fuck. Okay, time to deal. “I think I can manage that.”

It’s almost a shame to kiss that smile off. Almost.


End file.
